When the Gods Intervene
by ContemporaryManner
Summary: When a prophecy predicts that only Hermione and Snape can deflect Voldemort's triumph over Harry, they are forced to experience each other's childhood, adolesence, Snape's twenties and a glimpse into Hermione's future. Time travel SSHG ABANDONED
1. 1991: Pumpkin Juice & Old Women

A/N: This is an SSHG-centric fiction. You have been warned.  
Note that the story opens when Hermione is eleven. Do not be discouraged!  
There will absolutely be no storytelling that puts an underage (under 17) girl in a compromising position. Please read and review :)

* * *

**September 1st, 1991**

**Hermione is 11**

**Snape is 32**

Severus Snape was sitting at his usual spot beside Minerva McGonagall and Flitwick. Albus Dumbledore was conversing quietly with Minerva, but Snape made a point of indulging the woman with a few extra sneers to make his point: he was not pleased at being excluded from their private conversation.

The Headmaster finally raised an eyebrow at Snape, eyes twinkling, once Snape "accidentally" spilled some pumpkin juice on Minerva's robes.

"Oh,_ really_ Severus," the older woman sniffed, "You could very well do for an attitude adjustment. You should know that _firewhiskey_ is particular difficult to magically remove." Minerva then promptly removed the spiked pumpkin juice's stain from her robe without so much of a hint of difficulty.

"Now, Severus, you know our policy on drinking during the workday…." Albus gave Snape an indulgent smile. Snape couldn't believe it.

"Yes, Headmaster. I wonder, maybe I wouldn't be driven to such _indecent_ behavior if I were more able to participate actively in staff discussions…but unless the Gryffindor crowd would prefer to retain their sense of modesty—

"For goodness sake's Severus, don't start again on that," Minerva interrupted, abruptly standing from the table. "If you would excuse me, Albus; I need to go fetch the first years from Hagrid." She then swirled around, her robes smacking Snape in the face.

"Lovely woman," he sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"If you must know," Albus said conversationally, leaning across the table to swipe Severus's spiked goblet, "We were the discussing the arrival of the Potter boy."

If Severus had been eating (which he wasn't) he would've choked.

"The _Potter _boy?"

"Why, yes, have you forgotten already?" The Headmaster took a swig of Snape's misleading "pumpkin juice", "James' son. It's been ten years since the Potters' deaths. He's of school age now. Ah, that's spankin' good juice." The Headmaster smacked his lips in delight before returning the goblet to Snape.

Snape stared at it dubiously before finally deciding to banish it to the dark, murky depths of the kitchen sink.

Right on cue, Minerva sauntered into the Great Hall, putting on her air of self-importance. Bloody witch, just because _she_ got to read off the names and glare at them as they made the long, odious journey to stick a talking hat on their head—

"At least they aren't drenching wet as usual this year," Flitwick chirped, "Even Peeves has spared some time for curiosity."

Sure enough, Snape noticed the Poltergeist popping up behind various first years without them noticing, scanning for the Potter boy. Snape refused to lower himself to that level, but he soon felt his eyes swaying….no, no it must be the pumpkin juice.

The Hat had finished its song and Minerva was now starting to read off names.

"Bones, Susan!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

At that name, the hat called out its first "GRYFFINDOR!" The Gryffindor table burst out in applause. Snape curled his lips up and gave a whopping one clap of his hands before flinging them down into his lap before anyone, God forbid, noticed.

Minerva then cleared her throat and called out:

"Granger, Hermione!"

Snape was about to reach for his pumpkin juice, only to remember that he had already banished it. Dammit. He looked up and—

* * *

_"_Well? What do you think?" Elli folded her arms in obvious satisfaction. 

Macha, the goddess of war, was standing upright, with her arms folded in obvious dissatisfaction.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said in a contemptuous voice to the old woman.

"Careful girl, you want to mind your manners." Elli drew her lips into a smile. Elli was a formidable presence with her white hair, which was full and thick, not to mention wavy; she wore a blue tunic with an olive green cape securely fastened to it.

"Oh, very well," the beautiful young woman snapped, "She's adequate enough. But Severus might not…entirely oblige."

She walked around the dark, brooding man, frozen as a scowl was just beginning to creep up his lips. She draped her arms around his neck and stroked his cheek with her right hand.

"And besides, I'm quite possessive."

"I know you are," Elli snapped, "You're really quite impetuous. You can't keep your shadow to yourself all the time."

Macha drew herself to full height, hands reluctantly leaving Snape, and she flipped her golden, braided hair impatiently.

"Speak for yourself old woman. You've kept that man to yourself for all of his one hundred and fifty years. And you haven't let him have any fun—by God, you made him old the moment he was born." She drew her sword and thrust it in the direction of Albus Dumbledore.

"I am the goddess of old age," Elli defended herself.

"Bah!" Macha pushed her sword back into the hilt. "And you're the strongest of all gods and goddesses. Quite fitting for your shadow though."

"You're straying off topic."

"What is the topic!" Macha thrust her palms out in annoyance.

"What do you think of her?"

"I just said she was adequate. Her shadower hasn't appeared."

"Ah, but she will soon enough. Intelligent girl like that."

"Mhmm…" Macha was now absentmindedly tracing Snape's jawline.

"Girl! Do not manhandle your shadow!"

"How can I resist?" She giggled, but then she moved with amazing grace towards Elli.

"What would you have me do then?"

"You have to give him the whisper of release."

Her eyes widened. "Never!"

"Then he will end up like my shadow, Albus."

Macha briefly glanced at Albus and immediately returned to Snape. She shot Elli a malevolent look.

"Macha, I know it's hard. But the girl…look at her. She's perfect."

"She's going to be a student."

"Since when do you comply with mortal biases?" Elli snapped.

"Point taken."

Macha leaned to Snape's ear, her back arched gracefully. She whispered in his ear:

"I release you."

Elli watched in approval as Macha closed her eyes in quiet focus…the room was beginning to move again, only much slower…only two people remained at constant speed.

* * *

Severus Snape was still quite disappointed that he had so hastily banished his pumpkin juice. He would be needing it very soon…James Potter's son! The boy was going to be some arrogant, egotistical _thing_, modeled after his not-so-dearly departed father. 

Snape thought he felt something brush against his ear:

"_I release you."_

He shivered; was there a draft in here? Blasted witch probably didn't even bother to close the front doors…and with the Stone here too.

"Granger, Hermione!" Minerva called out again.

The whole world seemed to be moving very slowly…Snape could only fixate his eyes on a certain, young girl who removed herself from the crowd of first years.

She had bushy, brown hair, delicate, pale skin that suggested hours spent indoors, and sharp, brown eyes. She was one of the smallest first years, but she seemed to emanate an age that he never saw in young girls. To his surprise, her eyes, too, were fixated upon him. It was strange…everybody else was moving so slowly, but he sat there staring at the girl who was now confidently making her way towards the stool with the Sorting Hat.

Suddenly, his ears exploded with sound. Everybody was noisy again, and Albus Dumbledore was chuckling merrily at something Professor Sprout said into his ear.

"Shh, the girl is being Sorted now," the old man unnecessarily shushed the staff table. The only sound that they were making was the sound you hear when the silence is deafening.

The Hat took a few moments longer with the girl, this Granger, Hermione.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it roared.

The Gryffindor table burst into applause once more, but Snape didn't bother giving his nanosecond-one-clap-then-hide-it-under-the-table-before-anyone-sees. He was too preoccupied with the missing goblet of pumpkin juice. Where were those damn house elves?

"Potter, Harry!" Minerva called out, her voice ringing clearly.

The Great Hall became silent, but that silent only lasted for one, sweet moment before the miscreants started whispering among themselves quietly.

"…it's that Potter boy."

"…you know, the one who defeated You-know-who…"

"Doesn't look like much does he?"

Snape glared intently at the boy who now emerged from the crowd. The resemblance to that bastard, James Potter, was incredible. Snape reveled in the fact that the boy was thoroughly terrified-looking. He made it his priority to make sure that that fear was reinstated in every Potions class he would have the boy in.

Minerva jammed the Sorting Hat over his head and he sat on the stool, eyes squeezed shut tight and fingers clenching the edges of the stool.

_Oh good, he'll be sorted into Hufflepuff then. I only wish James were alive to see his son sorted into that House of dunderheads and weaklings._ Snape suppressed the urge to snicker to himself evilly.

And yet…the Hat took a long time. The longest of them all. Minerva was now growing distraught, but he noticed that the Headmaster was slowly nodding to himself, in understanding. It was as if he was listening to someone whispering words of wisdom into his ear.

The Hat whispered something so quietly that only the Professors at the staff table could hear it:

"_Slytherin_."

Snape recoiled in horror. Slytherin? He wasn't sure whether to be pleased (James' son in Slytherin! And the boy being in his House would make it much easier for Snape to have him expelled by third year….) or concerned. He knew it wasn't in the Potters' nature to be in Slytherin, as James so dutifully informed him while having him hang upside down, baring all to every (fortunate) girl passing by. If the Potter boy was in Slytherin, Snape would be sure that it would be something to do with Voldemort. The Headmaster had a theory…but then again, he always had some ridiculous theory or another.

Finally the Hat exploded:

"_GRYFFINDOR!"_ It roared the loudest than it had that evening.

The Gryffindor table burst into ecstatic applause, those lousy scumbags jumping into the air with glee. Potter was clapped onto the back and was offered numerous words of congratulations.

"We got Potter! We got Potter! _We got Potter! We got Potter_!" Fred and George were skipping into circles, arms linked with each other, shouting jubilantly.

Those damn Weasleys! Snape vowed to deduct at least fifteen points from each of them before the week was over.

Soon, the Sorting was over. Dumbledore rose and gave his customary, on-a-need-to-know basis speech, and with a flick of his hand, the tables groaned and creaked as hundreds of succulent dishes appeared.

Snape poked at a pig, but then it squealed at him fiercely. He decided to forgo the pork.

"Are you Jewish?" Flitwick leaned over, whispering to him in a conspiratorial tone.

"I wish," Snape said dryly.

Then he focused his intent gaze on the Potter boy for the rest of the night…something was nagging him at the back of his mind though….

_"Wonderful," Elli breathed, hands clasping together in delight._

_"For you maybe," Macha scowled.

* * *

_

A/N: The plot goes that every important person is assigned a 'shadower' or a goddess so to speak. Gods are not entrusted to this important duty however, and the females tend to have a problem with falling in love with their shadows, which is why their protection is only offered to those individuals of great importance.

Whole chunks of goddess time (which will be rare) will be broken by the grey bars. Otherwise, tidbits will just be italicized.


	2. 1992: Hermione & the Meaning of Life

**November 16th, 1992**

**Hermione is 13**

**Snape is 33**

Hermione Granger was very worried. She had been working in the library all evening, and realized only too late that it was already nine-fifteen. Students had to be in their dormitories by nine, so Hermione hastily gathered her books and ran out of the library.

There was something horribly wrong though…her abdomen was aching slightly, as if she'd eaten a bad porridge and it felt like she had been laughing uncontrollably and had peed in her pants a bit. It had only started when she'd abruptly gotten up, but she didn't pay much attention to it; it didn't seem too unusual. The castle corridors were dark, and there was only a single torch lit at the end of the hall. She knew from experience that after that torch, the halls would be completely pitch-black and finding her way back to the Gryffindor common room would be very difficult even with _Lumos_.

She clutched her abdomen. The pain was growing worse, but it wasn't terrible. She was more frightened because she was hopelessly lost, and the darkness was beginning to press in, compressing her skin, her body, trapping her soul in an all-too-finite cage it couldn't escape from. Horrified, she yearned for light, something to stop this rising panicky feeling that the darkness was causing…she even wished that a teacher would come sweeping down and rescue her from the blackness... She stumbled along the hall, trying to use her hands to steady herself against the stone walls, cold under her hands. Many portraits expressed this disapproval of this; they did not ordinarily enjoy being smacked in the face by a cold, clammy hand late at night, and this was no exception.

After making a few twists and turns, Hermione's hand no longer felt the touch of a cold, stone wall, but rather, empty air.

Hermione let out a small scream as she fell into the empty air. Much to her misfortune, it was not simply another corridor, but a full flight of stairs. She fell down on her side, wincing in pain as she finally hit the bottom. At least there was a torch in this room…but all it did was that it showed that Hermione was in a room she really _did not_ like. She was in the dungeons.

Hermione sat straight up again; this only provoked the dull ache in her abdomen to turn into a full-blown cramp and she groaned in dismay. What the hell was happening to her? She consoled herself by rapidly gathering her books and vowing to consult Madam Pomfrey right after she got out of here….

"Just…what do you think you are doing?" a cold, silky voice asked behind her.

Hermione froze, a book halfway into her bag, as she saw a man's outline fall across the opposite wall, lit by the torch.

"Pro-professor," she stuttered, "I-I—fell…down the stairs."

"Quite to the contrary, you underestimate my perceptiveness, Ms. Granger. Twenty points from Gryffindor for being out of bed late at night….and ten more for poor conduct, Miss Granger. One can not sleep when there are students tumbling around in the dungeons…"

_He probably wasn't even sleeping! _Hermione thought furiously, keeping her head down to collect the last bits of parchment scattered on the floor. She spotted a small, frayed strip of parchment and her hand, incandescent in the torchlight, reached out for it, her fingers closing around the strip when—

A slender, but strong hand, glowing orange in the light, clasped down onto the strip, and Hermione recoiled. Her Potions' Professor's face was glaring at her, his black eyes glittering with malicious delight.

"I think a Saturday detention will do nicely…I will have to have a word with Filch." Snape's lips curled up into a smirk as the girl let out a tiny whimper, her hand abandoning the spare bit of parchment.

The light went out of Snape's eyes and they resumed their cold, dead blackness; Hermione suddenly realized that they very much resembled the darkness that had been suffocating her not too long ago, but the glittering delight she saw…it was different from that consistent darkness she always saw when she dared to make eye contact with her Professor.

His hand crumpled the parchment and with no sound, it crumbled into nothingness. Hermione suspected that Snape had his wand tucked into those expansive black sleeves. He rose up, once again towering over her:

"Miss Granger, I do hope that you are not intending to sit there all night; I would be most…unhappy if you did so."

Hermione finished packing her bag and drew herself, trying not to let her fear show. Professor Snape was her least favorite Professor not so much because he was unjust and rude to Harry, but because he was well…intimidating. She secretly thought that he was good-looking too…he didn't burn his skin to a brown color like the boys all did and his hair was dark and long. But what entranced Hermione, and instilled her with the most fear, were his black eyes, glittering in the torchlight.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she whispered again.

_What are you doing?_ She berated herself angrily, _why can't you just tell him to come off of it like Harry does? Why do you let him cow you into—_another cramp spasmed throughout her again; she clutched her abdomen, groaning.

"Do not think that will help the situation any further. You are merely annoying and inconveniencing me more. Get moving," he snapped. The girl, however, ignored him and her hand dropped from her abdomen, an intent expression on her face, as if she was trying to hide the obvious discomfort she had. Snape spotted a bit of blood on a spot of the floor that glowed in the torchlight—most likely from her decided pleasure cruise down the stairs.

_Fuck. A student hurt…Albus will have my head for this._

"Stupid girl," he hissed, "Why did you not tell me you were injured? Follow me, quickly. I have some potions available."

Hermione was surprised at this bit of leniency on Professor Snape's part. Before she could look into his eyes again, questioningly, he had already swished around, his robes billowing menacingly. She followed him, still clutching her abdomen, wondering how he knew she had a cramp—

_Wait a minute. A cramp?_

Images of her hormone-crazed mother screaming at her father for Aztec chocolates flashed before her eyes.

_Huh. Well at least the textbook said it wouldn't become regular until after the first year. Oh no, no I'm following Snape, and he thinks I'm hurt. No, no, no…_

Severus Snape was deeply irritated. The know-it-all, the annoying girl, was hindering his latest drinking binge. He'd only had half a glass before he heard the crashing sound; he could not believe that the girl, which he had presumed to be intelligent, had the audacity to injure herself and then go tumbling down a flight of stairs.

"Sit," he commanded.

Hermione immediately sat at the nearest chair. For some reason, this sent a thrill of satisfaction throughout Snape. He liked the idea of uttering one word and having this small girl obey him. Snape soon realized what kind of thoughts this could lead to and immediately wiped it from his mind. He could've sworn he heard a chuckling that sounded very much like a woman's in his head.

Not far from Snape, a certain goddess with tawny, golden hair observed the scene that was now playing out in front of her.

"The girl's shadower will no doubt come very soon," Macha smirked in amusement.

She was now determined to have Snape fulfill his duty. The girl, Hermione, would only summon her shadower once she experienced her first signal of the onset of adulthood.

Snape scanned his array of potions quickly. He wanted nothing more than to administer it to the girl and get her the hell out of here. This room was his personal quarters, and he was now only getting angrier with Granger for making him more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Where did you injure yourself?" he snapped at her.

"Sir…I don't know. I was just reading in the library—

_Surprise, surprise._

"…and then I realized that it was past curfew. I got my stuff and tried getting out of there as fast as I could, but then I felt this dull pain here—

The girl indicated her abdomen. Snape tried not to look at her breasts.

"…and then I started…well, um…." The girl trailed off, and Snape could see now, even in this dimness, that she was turning as red as a tomato.

_A dull pain in the abdomen…puzzling._

"There's blood on your hand," Snape observed, watching her hand lie across her abdomen. "You surely remember being cut?"

"No, sir. It…I think I'm bleeding, but it's not a cut. The blood on my hand was probably just from my falling down the stairs." Hermione tried to steady her voice. She didn't want Snape to know how embarrassed she _really_ was.

_Bleeding…no cut. Abdominal pain…oh fuck. Why does this always happen to me? I'm a Potions Master, not someone who deals with every Gryffindor who starts bleeding for her first time. Fuck,_ he repeated to himself, _fuck._

"Ms. Granger," Snape was now livid, "this is out of my hands. Confer with Madam Pomfrey, but you are not in mortal danger. Get out—

"But you're supposed to escort—

"Do _not_ tell me what I am supposed to and what I am not supposed to do Granger! Find your own way to the common room and do not forget to report to Filch for detention Saturday."

"But it sir, it hurts—

"_Out_," he seethed, in a threatening voice.

Hermione obliged.

_Why is he always so horrid?_ She thought to herself desperately, _doesn't he ever have some compassion? Sometimes I think Ron and Harry are right, that he does work for You-know-who. _

She staggered up the stairs, slowly ascending from the dungeons.

_Although that was a strange experience…I could've sworn he was looking at me though. No! Don't think like that!_

Hermione mentally slapped herself, but now all she could think of while trying to find her way to the common room was how Professor Snape, with the briefest flicker of those black eyes, had actually found a part of her appealing.

_What is happening to me?_ she thought desperately.

Hermione staggered into her bed. She was so exhausted, and now that she knew what was happening to her, she didn't feel the compulsive need to wake up Madam Pomfrey at this time of the night. As she slept, t felt like as if her soul was slowly draining out of her to form an apparition….

As the girl slept, a colored mist was slowly starting to solidify at her side.

"_It will be all right,"_ the mist whispered, leaning down to kiss Hermione on the forehead.

The next morning, Hermione threw her underpants into the before anyone could see them and ask her about them. Especially Parvati and Lavender. She scowled at the thought of the girls who could really be prying sometimes.

Hermione changed into her robes; normally, she would've been eager to greet this Saturday morning in Muggle clothes and hang out with Harry and Ron, but right now she was anxious to see Madam Pomfrey and get some supplies for collecting the blood.

The medi-witch was bustling around in the infirmary although nobody was actually sick in there. Hermione suspected that the woman was preparing for a male visitor, since she was wearing a substantial amount of wizard cosmetics and was dressed in a particularly fine set of robes.

"Er, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione called out tentatively.

The witch jerked, but then her face relaxed.

"Oh, Miss Granger! Come in, come in! Is everything all right?"

"Well no…last night I was in the library—" Hermione sat down on one of the portable beds, "and I realized it was past curfew, so I stood up really fast and started putting all my books together. I felt a pain here," Hermione put her hand on her abdomen. "So, um…" she could practically feel her face heating up, "um…do you think you could-uh, give me something…to maybe help?"

Madam Pomfrey looked blank for a second, but then she started chuckling.

"Ah! I have just the thing for you…you're Muggle born, yes?"

Hermione nodded, wondering why Madam Pomfrey was taking this so lightly.

"I have just the thing for you." She turned and opened a cabinet with a key that hung on a chain around her neck. She rummaged around for a bit, but then she finally retracted a large, blue box.

"These are called pads. They're a Muggle invention to collect the blood—

"I know, it's just that—

"Oh, dear. Your parents never told you about this?"

"No, I learned about it in primary—

"Ermf," Madam Pomfrey looked at her pocket watch, "Well, I suppose I have a bit time. You might want to sit over there, dear…there's a sort of film that might help…I'll explain it all to you."

Horrified, Hermione desperately tried to stop the mad woman:

"No, Madam I already know—I just want to see if there's some sort of wizarding pad—

"_Momentus Phot,"_ Madame Pomfrey incanted, ignoring Hermione's feeble protests.

Hermione first was shown a diagram of a young girl. All her organs were labeled with the uterus leading to an arrow labeled **REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEM**.

"This," Madam Pomfrey began, "is your reproductive system…."

Twenty minutes later, Hermione left the room, horrified. Images of the male genitalia, diagrams of the reproductive system, and an old lady mouthing the words "menstruation" flashed through her mind.

She absentmindedly turned the corner, the incantation to magically collect the flow, _Sanguione_, echoing in her head. She turned around another corner, past a suspicious-looking suit of armor, only to run right into her Potions' professor.

"Ms. Granger wipe off that stupid look on your face. It makes you look like a dying chimpanzee," Snape grunted.

"Uh…" Hermione said, not really focusing, "Sorry Professor…."

"Go to your room Granger, before I lose my patience."

"Uh…" Hermione's eyes flickered up to Snape's.

Snape's blood ran cold as he watched the once hardened eyes of Granger melt to a softness that he had never seen before in her. Her expression was totally blank, innocent, and held no trace of the insufferable, annoying Gryffindor student he knew too well for his own liking. Her eyes then slid to Snape's mouth and she watched it for a few seconds before finally averting it to the floor, downcast. Snape basically felt revulsion and momentarily, some amusement. He stepped aside to let the girl through, but then the revulsion gave away to entrancement as he studied her small frame, retreating to the Gryffindor common rooms. He marveled at the kind of structure she would have once she grew a bit older….

Snape shook his head, trying to clear it. He was tired of thinking about Granger. All he wanted to do was have a drink in his study…yes that would be good.

Both Snape and Hermione forgot about the Saturday detention, and Filch sat in his office by his all lonesome self, stroking the back of Mrs. Norris.

* * *

Macha was displeased. She constantly felt the urge to smack Severus in the upside, but she eventually felt lenient. It was true that the girl was just beginning to get her shadower and would not mature to her shadow's liking for some years. Still, Macha was impatient. 

When Snape bumped into the girl the next morning, Macha's mood uplifted when she saw the shadowy mist now emerging rapidly behind Hermione. Good, good, that meant she was now getting her first adult thoughts. Adult thoughts didn't necessarily have to be sexual, but they were thoughts of a higher complexity, a higher understanding of how the world worked than a child's.

Macha's ego got a blow however, once she saw the goddess Hermione was gaining. Lilith and Macha had always been at odds.

Macha was always the fearsome, graceful goddess of war. She instilled a sense of intimidation and fear by her looks and her awesome power, and she had endured a great deal of hardships, including having been pressured by her husband to compete in a horse race while pregnant with twins. She had collapsed after the race and gave birth in public, so she had cursed all the males present and their descendants for nine generations.

Well, her husband hadn't been pleased with that so he encouraged her to shadow the ninth and last generation of one of the men present at that race. His name was Severus Snape, and since spending time with him for all of his life, she was now feeling bad she had cursed him…so now she was trying to make all the amends possible.

Lilith, however, was the only goddess that frightened and left Macha in awe of her. Instead of representing all things fearsome and war-like, Lilith was a goddess of wisdom and a protector of new-born babies. She was an exquisitely beautiful woman, with dark, streaming hair that strongly contrasted with Macha's own gold hair. Lilith also sported an elegant pair of wings that gave her the appearance of a dangerous, stormy angel. Lilith controlled part of the elements, which always defeated warfare.

Macha and Lilith had been friends at a very young age, but as their clear identities emerged, it seemed as if they were opposites.

Well, opposites attract; Macha mused at the mist, who was now forming the body and the wings of her competitor, Lilith. It would only be fitting that Lilith would be shadowing Hermione Granger. Lilith was well-reputed for her fierce independence and strong will, not to mention her intelligence. She didn't care what anyone would think of her. Essentially, Lilith represented the woman the girl, Hermione, would grow up to be.

Yes, Macha concluded, Lilith would be the perfect influence for Hermione, and Hermione in turn, would be perfect for Snape.

* * *

A/N: Normally there won't be as much mythology; this is just a little crash course for the beginning of the story. Basically the shadow-shadower relationship boils down to this: wizards and witches who have a great importance or destiny are assigned a shadower.

The shadowers form when they have their "awakening", something that happens when they get their first glimpse into the way things work in the adult world.

They then remain with their shadows until they die, and then they wait until an appropriate shadow is born again. That's all.


	3. 1993: Legislation Becomes a Concern

**October 1st, 1993**

**Hermione is 14**

**Snape is 34**

Severus Snape was sitting in his study, staring at a piece of parchment rather resentfully. His hands were firmly clasped in his lap, and his lips were pursed together tightly, so that it seemed the man was well…lipless. It took all of his self-control to not lunge at the unsuspecting piece of parchment and furiously rip it to shreds between his teeth.

"I will not…destroy…I will—I must not—destroy…Longbottom's…paper." He repeated this to himself over and over, chanting it like a mantra, with his eyes squeezed shut.

He made the mistake of creaking his left eyelid open. The parchment stared at him.

"YAAHHHH!" Snape lunged at it, his arms spasming across its surface, but not shredding it. "YAAHHHH, MUST—NOT—no, no, I will—

With that undeclared declarative sentence, Severus grabbed the nearest (and most unfortunate) quill and started scribbling red marks all over it—

"Wrong, wrong, _wrong, wrong, _WRONG! F! F, F, FAILURE!"

He unclenched his fist, let the quill drop to the table, and jerked back into his chair, head hitting against the headrest. Somebody was knocking at the door.

"Come in," he lessened his lips' pursing so that instead of being completely swallowed up, they were revealed in a rather attractive grimace.

The door opened and a beaming old man stepped into Severus Snape's private quarters.

"Ah, Severus! So glad to see I have found you."

_"Macha!" Elli beamed, "I've been looking for you!"_

"I really must applaud you Albus," Snape commented dryly, "No one has had the ingenious idea of searching my private quarters before."

_"Where else would I be," Macha folded her arms haughtily, "Seeing as I can't really be separated from my shadow?"_

"I see you've been grading papers…say, isn't that Mr. Longbottom's—

Snape hastily gathered the parchment rolls and proceeded to jam them unceremoniously into a suspicious looking drawer that repeatedly coughed out shreds of parchment.

"Or should I offer your drawer a cough drop?" Albus raised his eyebrow, amused.

"What's a cough drop?" Snape snapped, completely distracted.

"It's—well, yes, anyway back to business."

_"Finally," Macha grunted, "He does have the penchant for beating around the bush."_

_Elli shushed Macha, "Listen to what he has to say. It highly concerns you and Lilith."_

_"Lilith? That half-deformed goddess?" Macha's lips curled up in a beautiful sneer._

_"She won't be half-deformed once the girl is completely grown!"_

_"Psh," was all Macha would say. She fingered her holster longingly._

"And…what is this business you speak of?" Snape had finally averted his attention from the opposite wall to the Hogwarts Headmaster.

"There have been rumors," Dumbledore conjured up a poofy armchair in a rather unattractive shade of purple, "flinging around as usual."

"Black's escape is hardly anything new—

"It does not concern Sirius Black. It concerns the future of legislation."

_"Legislation!" Macha cried out in disbelief, "What do we care about legislation?"_

_"Oh, you impertinent young girl!" Elli grunted, "Just listen to the man, and everything will become clear. Well, the mortal aspect of it."_

_"Always the mortal…." Macha grumbled._

"The future of…legislation?" Snape repeated. He mulled over this piece of information for a good while before his cordiality kicked in for the first time:

"Some tea?" He thrust his hand in the direction of a teapot. Immediately, lines laced throughout its surface and the teapot fell in shatters.

"Er…I suppose not, Severus. You should really think about turning the temperature up a notch—if teapots are reduced to shattering…."

Even by now, Elli was getting irritated with the two men. She leaned into Dumbledore's ear and whispered something.

"Oh, yes! Legislation. There have been rumors flying around—in the Minister's head anyway—about a new legislation that will take place if Voldemort were ever to return."

Snape snapped to attention.

"If the Dark Lord returns? That is the last thing on Fudge's mind…no, no to say that would _imply_ that it actually crossed his mind—the dunderhead—

"Now, then Severus. As I was saying, there is the small matter of some legislation."

_"Hardly a small matter in my experience," Macha sniffed in_ _disdain._

"Hardly a small matter in my experience," Snape sniffed in disdain.

_"In this case it is something of a rather important matter," Elli explained._

"In this case, it is rather of great importance," Dumbledore informed.

"Is there in echo in this room?" Snape asked.

_"Echo, get out of here before I put a piece of steel in your ass!" Macha roared._

_The small goddess, Echo, stuck her tongue out at Macha, but she immediately dispersed out of her fear for the war goddess._

_"If we could please get back to the topic…" Elli rolled her eyes, posture as stoic and graceful as ever._

"If we could get back onto topic…." Dumbledore encouraged Snape.

"Uh, yes, the topic. I have—" Snape coughed at the same time his drawer let out another hacking cough, followed by a shower of paper shreds, all with Longbottom's handwriting on it, "—papers to grade…unfortunately."

"And while I am sure the feeling is mutual," Dumbledore eyed the drawer warily, "I am just going to inform you directly. If Voldemort is to return to power, then there will be a Muggle banishing legislation…for their own protection."

"This is what Fudge is toying with? Why? Is he in league—

"No, Fudge is acting of his own accord, although that's not much better, but even I am not sure as to why he is proposing such a radical bill."

"When he says Muggle…."

"He means anyone who is Muggle born. Half-bloods are exempted but their Muggle ancestry must be banished from the wizarding world. Fudge's reasoning is that they would be left unprotected in the 'hot zone' so to speak, but I have my suspicions that Fudge simply does not want to put in the energy for extra protective measures for the benefit of Muggle-borns and the half-bloods' relatives."

"Headmaster, I am extremely—" Snape kicked the drawer who was now breathing quite loudly, "—I am extremely honored that you are sharing this with me, but I am curious…quite curious as to why we are having a private meeting about this matter when it surely would be so much more beneficial if the entirety of the staff were to discuss it?"

"The staff—" Dumbledore said gravely, "are not all trusted members of the Order."

Snape let out a choking cough.

"The _Order_? That's—

"It is not so far in the past than you think, Severus."

"It dispersed twelve years ago!"

"Well…I suppose to a young man like you it is a bit further…." Dumbledore conceded.

"Yes, well…is that all? Fudge is planning to draw up a bill to push in a case of emergency?"

"Oh, he's already drawn it up."

"What!" Snape tried not to choke again; doing it too many times would lessen the effect.

_"He's drawn up the bill?" Macha frowned, but her tone was curious._

_"Oh, yes," Elli chuckled, "Dumbledore doesn't know this, but Fudge's gotten himself into a bit of twist concerning a young Muggle born woman at the Ministry, and he wants to have this bit of handy dandy information on hand so he can offer her compliance."_

_"Compliance?" Macha wrinkled her nose, "What is—_

"—I am not entirely familiar as to what you mean by compliance, Albus," Snape said coldly.

"There is a bit of a clause to this bill—most likely to lessen its harshness because even Fudge understands how terrible it is to be a witch or wizard and to have your magic bound by law."

"You're saying he's adding this clause out of _sympathy_?" Snape sneered.

_"He was always smart," Macha said affectionately, "Now watch as he detracts what the clause is really all about from Albus."_

"I suppose—

"Albus, as fascinating as this is, this will not apply to me in any way, and if the Dark Lord, I daresay, does return to power, it will not be for several years. I have some…." Snape's eyes flickered to the steadily growing pile of paper shreds next to his feet, "er, things to grade."

"Quite to the contrary, it may apply to you in…unexpected ways."

"Unexpected ways? Albus…."

"Oh, I cannot say…it is quite a wild theory of mine, but…." The Headmaster broke out in uncontrollable chuckles. "Well then, Severus. I will leave you to you grading—and may I suggest…_Reparo_." He flicked his hand and the paper shreds that had been gathering at Snape's feet flew up in the air and repaired themselves into a neat stack of parchment.

"Thank you," Snape said, really not all that thankful, "But do you mean to tell me that you simply came down here, informed me of an intriguing piece of information, and now are about to leave without leaving me with any idea what you might be planning?"

Dumbledore simply chuckled again and exited with a gloating Elli trailing him close behind.

_"You can't just leave us here like that!" Macha yelled after Elli, "You may have seniority, you may be stronger, but I will, by God, find a way!"_

_"You do that!" Elli called behind her back._

"I need to get out of here," Snape grumbled, pushing his chair backwards.

* * *

Hermione Granger was biting her lip furiously as she flipped through a particularly heavy-looking book. It was labeled as _The Grandmaster's Grandmaster's Grand Book of the Grandmaster's Nastily Complex Potions_; she had recently discovered it in the very corner of the Potion classroom. Harry was standing off to her side, sighing impatiently.

"For once, you're here before class starts. I have so much to tell you…Hermione, why are you looking at that? Snape could—

"Deduct points? Brilliant, Potter…if only you could exemplify that deductive reasoning in your Potions' papers…."

Hermione glanced upwards immediately, face turning a brilliant red. Harry just did his customary, I'm-just-going-to-seethe-to-myself-like-the-moody-isolationist-I-am seething.

"Well…meddling in restricted classroom books…that would be—five points—oh, and another five points for not offering guidance to Hermione, as you should have done so when her ever-so-meddlesome—" he spat these few words out, "—persona started manifesting itself once again. Sit down."

Hermione now started seething too, but Harry was puzzled. There was something different about the way Snape said that…he sat down in his usual seat, between Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't get his mind off of it. Snape was continuous, never-changing. If he started acting differently, there was something very wrong.

There was a horrific squeaking of chalk on the board as Snape was conjuring the usual directions for potion-making on the board. In the middle of _stew the beetroots with approximately one drop of monkshood _and _a dash of ginger root with Vesuvius earthsoil_, the words 'SIRIUS BLACK' was shakily written.

"_Banieraus_," Snape growled. 'SIRIUS BLACK' disappeared immediately, leaving a classroom full of very confused Gryffindors and Slytherins.

"Professor—" Hermione started to say.

"_Silence_, Granger! Begin the potion, and if anyone has the audacity to mess up on this particular day it will be a Saturday detention and ten House points!"

"Prof—

But Hermione was cut off by Ron's hand on her mouth. He was leaning across Harry, his arm bumping Harry's nose rather uncomfortably.

"_Be quiet_! Do you want to get more House points taken off!"

"Unhand Granger, Weasley!" Snape snapped immediately.

Harry was surprised. He had figured out what was strange about the way Snape was speaking, and now he seemed particularly miffed that Ron was touching a part of Hermione that people did not normally touch.

Snape had called Hermione…well, Hermione. Harry was completely befuddled.

"Once Potter wipes off that glazed, I-haven't-a-clue-as-to-what's-happening look off of his face, you can pair up with him Malfoy. Weasley, you'll be with Zabini, Parvati with Goyle, and Granger…you can be with Bulstrode. Do not make me say it again: begin."

Snape then promptly sat down at his desk and forcefully opened a newspaper. He half-read it and half-watched the Granger girl.

Snape couldn't believe how much she had grown in the short time from thirteen to fourteen. Secretly, Snape always found it fascinating observing as his female students made the transition from girlhood to puberty. He was no pervert, especially not one who was amorously fascinated with young girls, but there was just a way that the new curves appearing overnight and the changing of the structure captivated him.

This was especially true of the Granger girl. She'd always been a skinny thing, but she now was a little…chubby. Snape didn't observe the girl eating, but when he did catch involuntary glimpses of her in the Great Hall (one of the hazards of sitting at a table elevated above all others), she was never overeating and always had a tasteful, healthy dish in front of her. Her robes hid what newly minted parts were now forming, but briefly, he caught glimpses of a flash of skin under the neck of the robes, a graceful contour of the leg when her robes hitched against the table leg….

"Professor?" a cold voice, not unlike his own, interrupted his thoughts.

"What is it Malfoy? Surely you are able to brew this independently?"

"Potter's messed it up," Malfoy sneered at the Potter boy who was now furiously prodding a bright pink concoction.

Snape felt a surge of annoyance at both the Malfoy boy and Potter—he knew exactly what they had done wrong…only adding fig leaves and letting it brew for five extra minutes would remedy it, but he wasn't about to tell them that….he gleefully fantasized about the Vanishing charm he would use—

He then saw the Granger girl lean over to Harry and his skin bristled. Her lips were touching that Potter boy's ear, her hair falling against his cheek…how dare he? How dare _Snape_ for—no, no, his hand flew up to his temples and he rubbed the furiously.

"Return to your seat Mr. Malfoy—

Snape was about to raise his wand and vanish the potion, when it suddenly reverted to the dark, olive green color it was supposed to be. He noticed some stray fig leaves that were strewn about near the cauldron—

Granger! Again, the girl couldn't stop butting in.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all," he snapped.

Snape noticed with disappointment that when the girl's face fell, her expression becoming pained, that he only felt a small bit of satisfaction. Nothing compared to what he felt as usual.

"There must be something wrong with me…maybe I'm coming down with something…." Snape muttered to himself. For consolation, he started scratching red marks on Longbottom's paper again.


	4. 1994: Macha Steps Over the Line

**September 18th, 1994**

**Hermione is 15**

**Snape is 35**

"D'you believe it," Ron whispered in awe, "The Beauxbatons…."

"Are you sure it's just the Beauxbatons and not Fleur Delacour?" Hermione huffed impatiently.

"Guys," Harry sighed tiredly, "Could you just stop?"

The three fourth years were sitting in the common room by the fireplace, Ron gazing at a Wizard's Chess game, eyes glazed over, Harry flipping through a Defense against the Dark Arts book absentmindedly, and Hermione furiously taking notes on _House Elves: A History of Worldwide Persecution and what we can do About It_.

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione apologized, re-dipping her quill, "But Ron's acting rather foolhardy about this."

"She's part _veela_, Hermione; it's not completely his fault."

Ron started whistling to himself, the chess game completely forgotten.

"_Really_," Hermione huffed.

"If I didn't know any better," a redheaded girl propped herself over Hermione's chair, "I'd say that you were _jealous_, Hermione," she teased.

Hermione scoffed, "Of _Ron_? Please. Make yourself useful and help me with S.P.E.W."

"Er, I just remembered…have a Potion's essay to do…." Ginny scampered away before Hermione could catch her in her elfy-clutches.

Harry quickly ducked his head into his book, trying to look busy. Hermione sighed with frustration; obviously, her friends weren't going to be any help. It was only seven at night so she resolved to go down to the library and check out some light reading to take her mind off the injustice of house elf persecution.

"I'm going to the library," she announced.

"Okay," Harry murmured.

Ron didn't acknowledge her. After a closer examination, Hermione deduced that the boy was now asleep and had a faint trail of drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes at one of her old friend, and, doing a rather good imitation of Professor Snape, she swirled her robes around her and exited.

* * *

"Do you remember," Lilith sighed in her wistful, low voice, "When we both were at that stream? Where Daphne's tree is?"

Macha, the goddess of war, looked up from her knife, slightly annoyed.

"Daphne's tree? Yes, why?"

"In a way, it reminds me of what we're doing to them."

This perked up Macha's interest, and she sheathed the knife. Daphne was a mortal who was a half-goddess that caught the interest of Apollo and turned into a tree to escape him from ravishing her.

"How?" Macha's voice was curious, and she watched Lilith's feathered wings flex in delight and flatten themselves against her back.

"Hermione…" Lilith smiled, mischief glimmering in her eyes, which was strange because they usually held comfort, even for Macha.

"Lilith, some of us don't have your talent for wisdom," Macha reminded her friend and competitor sharply.

"It's really not a matter of wisdom…or clairvoyance for that matter," Lilith skimmed her fingers on the surface of the rows of books. "If you don't realize the irony of Daphne and Hermione, then Snape can't either."

"You're irritating me."

"I'm just trying to help. Besides, Hermione will be irritating Snape too, so you have to learn how to practice your self-control and extend it to Snape."

"I still don't understand why Elli chose her," Macha huffed. She retracted the ghost of a book and flipped through it. It was about the properties of different invisibility and concealment potions. _I should make a note of this for Snape's coming work_, Macha thought to herself. Elli and Dumbledore's hint about the Order had unraveled her nerves.

"That probably won't help Snape," Lilith observed, "He could write that book under a week if he wanted to."

"Mind your own business," Macha snapped.

"To answer your question," Lilith glided along the aisle, so that Macha could only slightly see her form, obscured by the rows of books between them, "Elli didn't _choose_ Hermione. It doesn't even have a lot to do with Eros' will although she's going to play a major role in this, nor Eirene."

"Then who exactly is behind this?"

"The universe," Lilith said simply, "Keeping stability from chaos, the timeline, random order, God."

Macha stopped moving, her body growing icy with fear.

"G-G-God?" she stuttered, her lips numbing with cold.

Lilith suddenly, in a blur so fast that Macha couldn't realize what was happening, moved from the opposite end of the bookshelf to in front of Macha so that their eyes were completely level with each other, Lilith's steely, stormy, grey eyes were boring into Macha's own gold-blue.

"Yes. The Lord Almighty Himself. The Creator."

"How—how do you know?" Macha's voice was very soft.

"Who else could it be? Things are so beyond our willful control, Macha. You'll come to see it in just two years from now."

"Two years!"

"Yes. The balance of good and evil, Earth, is all hanging on Snape and Hermione and their experience. My understanding of it is that it's such an incredible leap of faith for a teenage wizard like Harry Potter to defeat such a horrible and powerful evil like Voldemort…that…well, it's bordering on an action that can only be feasible in a universe governed by Chaos."

"Chaos!" Macha gasped in horror, "That…_beast?_"

Chaos was the most fearsome goddess of all, because she was the unprecedented, the unpredictable. She could break all the rules so she had complete power over all the goddesses' roles, including Elli and Lilith's and those two were strong ones.

"Beast she may be," Lilith said wisely, "But without her helping hand, Harry can never defeat Voldemort. We need one action that seems completely chaotic of the **most powerful force**. Which is where Eros comes in."

"She's the henchman for the goddess of Love!"

"_Exactly_," Lilith breathed, "As corny as it sounds to you Macha, Love _is_ the most powerful force. If something completely chaotic breaks from it, Chaos, the goddess, will have the power to spread that great chaos to the only second most powerful thing in the world: evil. And with that chaos, the good will be able to triumph over the evil because it is so…_unprecedented_."

"That's…that's insane," Macha breathed, a thrill of horror coursing through her veins.

"No, it's completely illogical but it works. Shh, they're about to meet now…do try to influence Snape a bit more this time. Last time, he sent Hermione to her common room in tears."

Macha chuckled to herself mirthlessly.

* * *

Severus Snape didn't know why, but a thrill of horror had just shot through him, sending his mind reeling. He was unstable, and this was not enjoyable. It reminded him too much when he was a small boy and his father was acting…chaotic. Snape was in the Restricted Section of the Library, looking for Shakespeare's rare book on prose and poetry and their relationship with the strengthening of a potion. Albus Dumbledore had asked him to brew up several batches of Veritaserum for this year, the reason unbeknownst to Severus. He had also been given the express instructions to somehow strengthen it so that it would differ from regular Veritaserum potions—a mutation if you will.

Upon finding the book he needed, he was pleased to note that it was in a messy, 16th century English, handwritten scrawl with some Ancient Runes thrown in. It would not be easy for a prying person to read it.

He sharply turned the corner, robes billowing behind him, but instead of sailing smoothly on to his personal quarters in the dungeons, he bumped into someone much shorter and smaller than him. The person let out a small gasp, but the momentum of the impact sent both Snape and the girl tumbling to the floor.

Snape landed on top of the girl, surely a student, and he quickly got to his knees and hands to lessen his weight out of fear for Albus's wrath if he caught Snape manhandling a student and suffocating her.

His book was scattered with a copy of _Deciphering the Runes _and _The Bard Himself: Shakespeare and his Role in the Wizarding World_. For a fleeting moment, Snape appreciated the irony of how those two titles probably could help an offender translate the book he had just pulled from the shelf. The second fleeting thought made him instantly realize that there was only one student who would check these kinds of heavy books out: Granger.

He looked down at the girl he was still on top of. It was Granger, sure enough, her long, brown hair splayed out over Snape's hands, and her chest rising quickly with…fear? Anticipation? Uncertainty? Snape didn't know, but he knew that this was the most remarkable sight he would ever see. Granger was lying before him, not quite cowering, but there was a small line of determination set across her jaw as if she was daring him to scare her. The front of her robes were open so Snape had a clear view of her white blouse and short skirt. There was a patch of creamy, soft-looking skin from her neck and swelling up as it formed the contours of her chest—

"Pro-Professor Snape, if you could please…." Granger suddenly looked worried.

Hermione Granger had been looking for some light reading when she bumped into Snape. Snape, out of a rare episode of clumsiness had tripped over her and sent them both crashing to the floor. He'd been on top of her for almost ten seconds now, and Hermione had no idea why he wasn't getting up and deducting ten points for _her_ not watching where she was going. Instead he was examining the front of her shirt thoughtfully, and Hermione could feel her heart quicken. This made her chest rise and fall faster, _not _helping the situation at all.

Hermione had never been looked at or examined appreciatively by an elder boy or man. She had just turned fifteen this September, but it wasn't till summer until boys her age started shooting second glances in her direction. It was probably because she had thinned down considerably since third year and had gotten most of her adult height and shape. She wasn't sure how to respond to her most feared Professor, his face inches away from hers, his hair hanging like a private curtain around them. His sharp, black eyes bored into hers and she felt a thrill of anticipation, but her more sensible part told her—

_"Enough already, Macha!" Lilith snapped, "You've made your point! You've—MACHA, YOU'VE DONE YOUR PART!"_

_Macha, the war goddess, smirked at Lilith and she gently pulled Snape away from Hermione._

_"You did tell me to do more."_

_"She's a fourth year. You can't do so much now. Just create small moments of building up tension. Nothing like this! This is reserved, even by Eros, for people who are of emotional age!"_

"Pro-Professor Snape, if you could please…." Hermione finally found her voice.

Snape quickly got to his feet, unsure of what to say. Instead he simply picked up his own book, leaving Hermione's on the floor.

He struggled not to let his desire show—on his face and in…other places. It had been years since he was with anyone…and never had he had a partner, someone to appreciate. This experience greatly unsettled him, and it simply made him more determined to make Granger's life living hell. He would show her what you get when you tried to make Snape want something he couldn't have. His former Death Eater side was quickly boiling up in anger.

"I would suggest you watch where you are going next time, Granger, unless you like mauling your Professors. Ten points from Gryffindor for being careless, and…twenty points for lingering around the Restricted Section."

Hermione's face contorted in rage and she pulled her robes around herself protectively, "I was nowhere near the Restricted Section! I'm in the—

"Not. _One_. Word. Go to your common room immediately before you bring a week's detention upon yourself…with Filch." Snape's lips curled up in a sneer.

He had noticed how she pulled her robes around herself. A wise choice.

"_Fine_." She stooped down to pick up her books. Snape tried not to look at her bending form.

Snape watched Hermione retreat for a while before swishing his robes about him and, using his private entrance from his quarters, exited.

* * *

"If," Lilith breathed, "_if_ you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again—when my shadow is in such a formative state—I will be sure to take that sword of yours and—

"Lilith, please," Macha raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her voice calm, "it worked perfectly fine. It has made them aware of each—

"THEY ALREADY WERE! Snape views Hermione as a meddlesome student with _potential_. She had not yet won his complete respect, and exposing her to your shadow's libido like that was a dangerous move. It means that we now have to work very hard to preserve that growing respect Snape has for Hermione or it could be completely lost."

Macha didn't have a doubt about the growing fear inside of her. Lilith was dangerous, yes, but so was Macha. However, Lilith had an advantage over Macha: her intelligence. Her clarity, her insight. She knew more about the so-called "grand plan" than Macha and therefore, even though Macha didn't like to admit it, Lilith had a far better idea of what should and shouldn't be done.

To retain some of her dignity, Macha sharply responded:

"When you're not some foggy apparition, I'll pay more heed to you, but for now? It seems your shadow is not the only one around here who is in need of earning some respect."

* * *

A/N:This story _does_ have a plot, I promise you:D 


	5. 1996: They've Gone off Their Rockers

**June 12th, 1996**

**Hermione is 16**

**Snape is 36**

"Excuse me?" Snape's voice grated against Minerva McGonagall's nerves like a cheese grater against a particularly ripe tomato.

"I believe you heard me quite clearly Severus," Minerva snapped.

"Albus? Surely you'll put an end to this…_madness_!" Snape glared at the Headmaster, who was now currently sucking on a lemon drop in a thoughtful manner.

The entirety of the Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft's staff and the most prestigious members of the Order of the Phoenix were now assembled along the sides of a quite long, rectangular, cherry-wood table. Small plates with assortments of chocolates and pastries were scattered here and about, although all that remained were a few lonesome crumbs that had found their way to the corners of both the Headmaster's and the Deputy Headmistress's mouths. There were a few coolers of iced tea (Albus wanted a little something off the beaten path of hot tea) hovering ominously above Mad-Eye Moody's head. It would be a good indication of the seriousness of the present situation that the normally paranoid ex-Locked-in-a-Trunk-for-Nine-Months-was-Not-Like-a-Return-to-the-Womb-whatsoever Professor not once eyeballed the demonic coolers in the duration of the assembly.

All in all, it was a darn tense moment when the meanest and most important of them all was threatening to blow his top off all because of a little, insignificant bit of legislature.

"I am afraid," Albus looked over his half-moon spectacles as gravely as possible while having one's lips puckered from an especially sour lemon drop, "that I cannot put an end to this Severus. You will remember, of course, the conference we had in your quarters some two or three years ago regarding this situation."

"You warned me Fudge was implementing a disastrous bit of legislature if there ever were to be a Second War. You DID NOT say that I would—

"Severus! We're near the hospital wing—

"THERE ARE NO STUDENTS—

"Could everyone stop interrupting—" Remus Lupin started before being interrupted by Dumbledore.

"That will be enough!" Dumbledore pressed his lips together firmly, a very good imitation of McGonagall, who looked on approvingly.

"One _does_ wonder, Albus," Mad-Eye Moody commented in his gravelly voice, "why it has to be Severus who needs to take the girl when a much more…amiable character could easily suffice."

For once, Dumbledore was silent for a moment.

And for once, Elli really, really wished that Lilith was here to remedy this disastrous situation. Desperate, she leaned into Dumbledore's ear and whispered:

"I have my reasons."

"I have my reasons," Dumbledore repeated slowly, "And they will make themselves clear once the war is over and when the results prove to be desirable."

_Macha sniggered, "Ha! Desirable…exactly the word I'm looking for."_

_"Shh!" Elli hushed the other goddess._

The room was silent, except for the occasional foreboding buzz of the iced tea coolers that had finally caught Mad-Eye Moody's attention, who was now trying to experiment with various hexes to blast them into oblivion.

"Very well," Snape hissed, his voice similar to a pair of icicles slowly grinding their way into Dumbledore's heart. "Very well," he repeated, "I will do it, if only to rescue myself from the flailing wrath of the Ministry once it finds that I have not taken in the girl. But rest assured," Snape's voice changed from compliance to a harsh, threatening tone, "When this affair is over, you will get your due payment."

And with that, Snape rose from his seat abruptly and left. Albus Dumbledore stared gravely at the young man before frowning in obvious concern.

"Albus," Minerva, too, frowned, "Surely you cannot just let him go with a threat like that—

"Minerva," Dumbledore said tiredly, waving his hand dismissively at his colleague, "He is a creature of habit, and not once, not once have I ever heard him make a threat that he did not intend to carry out. Do not think these circumstances will stop him."

"Do you not find it worrisome?" Kingsley Shacklebolt inquired, his deep voice soothing and calm.

"Of course I do."

Elli was furious. How _dare_ Macha let her shadow say such a thing like that? Although, Elli supposed she was not entirely being fair; shadowers had no say in their shadow's actions. After all, the humans were creatures of free will. They could be swayed, but not forced, and to give credit where credit was due, Macha _had_ tried to open Snape's mind to the more optimistic perception of the whole situation before being unwillingly dragged out by her shadow's departure.

"Tonks and I have an announcement," Remus glanced briefly at the Headmaster for approval. Dumbledore nodded.

"There is a new student enrolled for the fall," Tonks explained, her bright green hair shaking as she talked, "By the name of Irene Wolfe. She is a Muggle-born witch who has resided in Denmark before moving to England in the middle of the spring term. Hogwarts has accepted her as a sixth year student."

"Interesting," Professor Flitwick chirped, "But why is it Tonks who is announcing this? Headmaster?..."

"Miss Wolfe's father is one who shares many similarities with Snape when it comes to work for the Order," Dumbledore worded carefully.

"Ah," Flitwick nodded in understanding.

_"It's about time," Elli sighed, "We could certainly use that around here…peace."_

**August 31st, 1996**

**Emerald Bay; The United States of America**

Severus Snape really was not one predisposed to poetic musing or thoughtful queries. Nor did he ponder over the matter of his less-than-perfect teeth or the over-productive oil glands in his scalp. However, he did not generally seek out for company so this one last contention possibly could justify the last few when considering where Snape was at the present moment.

He was, as we said before, not poetic or thoughtful. Still, he liked being alone to sort out his thoughts much more than the next stack of marmalade or human, which made him inclined to go to more energy-consuming lengths to seek out solace.

To summarize the last five sentences, Snape Apparates to Emerald Bay in Michigan, the United States to collect his wits about.

Emerald Bay would normally be quite crowded at this time of the year, but Snape took care to Apparate to a more secluded shore of the beach where there were treacherous underground rocks that tended to have an affinity for impaling whatever came its way, be it wave runner or swimmer. He also took care to Apparate in the late morning so he would arrive just when the sun would be setting in Michigan. He was not much for beautiful, scenic views, which was why Emerald Bay suited him perfectly. The water was green and choppy although it was much more desirable to swim in than some other parts of Lake Michigan, the landscaping a little rocky and steep, the sky almost always perpetually gray or misty. It was not the cheerful, sunny tourist destination that people liked to seek out.

The last few hours had been unbelievably stressful for Snape. He even decided to pass up the firewhiskey, which was his usual relaxant, out of fear for alcoholic poisoning. They had been so stressful that he had resorted to staying here for the past fifteen minutes, which was rare for him. If he did come here at all, it was usually only for two minutes to breathe in the air and calm his mind down and then Disapparate right back into whatever row he was currently having.

The reason that made his past hours so stressful was Hermione Granger. And Cornelius Fudge of course. That blasted old codger, Dumbledore _did_ hint at this possibility a few years back, but Snape could have never imagined….

Hermione Granger. Under the legislature that Fudge had passed, all Muggle-borns or Muggles residing in the magical community during the Second War had to either leave or take up residence with a half-blood or pureblooded guardian. Miss Granger would never be deterred from completing her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, and with this assumption in place, Dumbledore had somehow managed to register Snape as a willing guardian for Granger.

Snape was appalled of course; at first he couldn't even find any words to speak, out of his trembling, white-hot rage, but once he calmed down a bit (after a thirty-minute rant that nearly got him locked up by Pomfrey), he smoothly told Dumbledore that he would rather—

"Be castrated?" Dumbledore suggested.

To Snape's surprise, he found that, no, he would not rather be castrated than take in Hermione Granger. Quite to the contrary, he suspected that the reason he was so upset was because he simply did not know how he was to live with a young woman with such…contempt and a brain that had a photographic memory. Oh, he suspected Granger was intelligent, but he attributed most of her accomplishments to her memory and bookworm tendencies, not to an unnaturally high IQ. He also could not fathom how inappropriate it would be to live with a female student who would be of age very, very soon. Actually, he had no idea when Granger's birthday was but he suspected that it would be sometime this year or the next.

But most of all he just didn't want to live with _anybody_, period.

He then surprised himself by thinking of a past experience with Granger. Period. He groaned in dismay at the horrifying memory but then—

An image of her rising chest filled his mind. Her skin, the way the smell of her hair reminded Snape of water, and her lovely jaw and neckline. He began to (not so slowly) undress her in his mind, relishing the capable, nicely-sized limbs—

Snape's eyes flew open. No. This simply could not do. If he couldn't even control his thoughts with regards to the Granger girl, then he could not be expected to control himself from being either overly malignant or salacious without going bonkers. Fleetingly, he thought of the girl's reaction when she received notice of her new Hogwart's living arrangements.

That put a big smirk on his face.

**August 31st, 1996**

**Diagon Alley; London**

_How can this be?_

Hermione Granger fingered the creamy parchment, signed and sealed by Albus Dumbledore himself, with a worrisome lack of gentility.

_Have they all gone off their rockers? It's not logical. I could just stay at Hogwarts—the girls' dormitories. Although that's not exactly under the supervision of a half-blooded or pure-blooded guardian—Yes it is! Dumbledore! But then again, the Ministry surely won't recognize Dumbledore as the guardian of all of Hogwarts' students…only the parents are guardians. It would have to be a sort of individual foster parent—but Professor Snape! _

After a few more moments of this wild pondering, Hermione reached the same conclusion as five minutes before.

_They've all gone off their rockers._

Hermione was presently lying on top of a blanket spread over an abandoned Muggle dumpster. She had found it in her second year in an alley within Diagon Alley. An alley within an alley. Although she had no idea what a Muggle dumpster was doing in a completely wizarding and witching vicinity, she had taken a liking to resting on top of it, watching the blue sky and fluffy, white clouds pass her by. The funky smell was just something she would have to deal with.

All she could think of was the way Snape had deliberately remained on top of her for fifteen seconds longer than he should have in her fourth year. She didn't know if it was something to worry about where Snape was concerned, but where_ she_ was concerned, she was well…concerned. Hermione knew all too well by now that she was most certainly attracted to older males. It was genetically programmed into all females as her mother assured her, but it seemed to be more so in Hermione than the other girls. Her father had posed an interesting theory on this fact though:

Perhaps since the wizarding community had elongated life-spans, the females did not have to be as concerned with finding a mate that could provide for them. Such mates in the Muggle world were usually older, with more time to secure their place in provisions, so it became a helpful trait for female Muggles to have a preference for older Muggles since they would then be provided for. Likewise, older Muggle males preferred younger, female Muggles because of their advanced reproductive abilities.

However, her father had said, in the wizarding community it could be quite different. Since wizards and witches had a longer lifespan and magic on their side, such material concerns would not hinder their survival as drastically as it would for Muggles. They were all a softer bunch, the females remaining in their prime well into their forties and possibly fifties, and the males dilly-dallying along when it came to climbing the career ladder. It wasn't that the wizards didn't care; they simply had the time. So such a trait would not be evolutionarily advantageous.

Still, Hermione was Muggle-born, which meant she got the full dose of the whole being-attracted-to-older-males complex that she had inherited from her mother, who was a young, spree, twenty-two year-old when Hermione was born. Her father had been a successful dentist who was ten years older than her mother. She had to give her mother credit though; her mother had managed to go to school, received a degree in dentistry, and opened a shared practice with her husband while raising Hermione. Although Hermione hadn't _really_ been raised….

The six years she had now been assimilated in the wizarding world had all too painfully showed her that men who would have immediately been disregarded if she were a Muggle growing up in a Muggle society were very well prospective mates in the wizarding society. Provided Hermione reached of age first.

First of all, Hermione was now blessed with an extended lifespan. Age gaps dramatically decreased once a girl hit seventeen years.

By the time Hermione was in her second year, she had realized that school-girl crushes were not stampeded and dispelled upon like an elephant squashing a termite mound as they were in the Muggle world. They were actually encouraged, but on a strictly no-touch basis. 'Good for the emotional development,' they said, 'it instills them with a sense of what they want at a young age instead of spending all of their twenties and thirties searching for the "right one"'. She had realized this, of course, because of Lockhart although he had been horrid.

In her first year, she had discovered that although wizards were blessed with longer lifespans, it made no difference if they didn't have a strong character, an exceeding amount of passion, spite, or energy, and a certain amount of willingness to survive and live life. Combined, these characters would not only fight off aging to some extent, it would guarantee a longer lifespan similar to Albus Dumbledore and Marchbanks. It was because she had done so much reading on alchemy and the Philosopher's stone.

She had witnessed all of those traits in none other than Severus Snape by the end of her third year. The scene he had put on in both the Shrieking Shack and the school was spectacular. He had a definite, dark past history and a grudge that had forged him into a survivor.

She felt her first real attraction to Snape in her fourth year, and in her fifth year, she was stunned by the last and final realization she would have concerning romantic affairs:

Snape was a high prospect. He had a secured position, all the enduring and personality traits, the finance, and he _was_ attractive to Hermione.

It was his imperfections that did it for her. She hated straighty, big, white, shiny teeth, something her parents had direct involvement in, and she hated a too-perfect appearance. Lockhart had made her realize that it was better if a man showed how evil he could be on the outside rather than masking it by unnatural perfection.

Hermione sat up from the Dumpster. She was so, so confused….

What was she _thinking_? She hated him from the very bottom of her heart…he was horrible, spiteful, malicious, and he had made her Potions' classes hell since she was the tender age of eleven. Well, twelve really, but every time she thought of him, which wasn't often, a memory stung her like it was still fresh.

She examined her school list: Advanced Transfiguration, various strange Potion appliances, Standard Book of Spells Grade Six…oh what a year it was going to be.

And there was her Apparation testing a week after her seventeenth birthday. She was dreadfully nervous about it, but when she thought of the wonderful places she could Apparate to during the summer before her seventh year, she smiled.

She heard Emerald Bay was quite nice at this time of the year….


	6. A Change of Plans

**September 1st, 1996**

**Hermione is 16**

**Snape is 36**

Hermione was now on a three-way conference phone call with her parents.

And Remus Lupin was waiting impatiently besides her.

"I'm sorry, but I'll not go, mum, even if you send dental floss instead of _Dayme's Doleful Handbook to Death Eaters_ for Christmas."

"Oh Hermione," Mrs. Granger sighed, "Really, I'm sure they won't allow you to stay with him during the school year. The girls' dormitories—

"That's not what _this_ says!" Mr. Granger cut off his wife, shaking the creamy piece of parchment that had been sent to Hermione, informing her of her new accommodations, "and no daughter of mine will be LIVING with someone who works as a double agent, used to be a Death Eater, and…and…he's a man!"

"Exactly!" Hermione crowed, but now uncertain on what to latch on, "he's…a man?"

Mrs. Granger huffed, "You two are being silly. It's certainly no madness, and Hermione will just have to do what this Dumby-dore fellow thinks is safest."

Hermione didn't even bother to correct her mother, because to her horror, it was now three minutes to ten, and the Hogwarts Express would be leaving soon. Although she said she wouldn't go if she had to live with Snape, not even with the threat of Voldemort bursting into her bedchambers and throwing around killing curses would deter her from returning to Hogwarts for her fifth year.

"Mum, Dad, I have to go. The train'll be leaving soon."

Remus Lupin let out a relieved sigh.

"Bye. No I love you. I swear I love you. Tell Ms. Foddger that I said hi. Yes, I'll remember. And you too crocodile…yeah the Mace is in my bag Dad, but I don't know why—he's just a teacher. Yes, I promise."

Remus sucked in his breath again.

"I really should go now," Hermione whispered, glancing over at her impatient former professor, "I love you, and I'll send you an owl as soon as I get there. Bye."

Hermione turned off the phone and with a flick of her wand, it disappeared into thin air.

"What was that thing you were talking on anyway?" Remus asked, very much interested, "I didn't know Muggles had that sort of device to make do without magic."

"They have a lot of things to make do without magic, but that phone wasn't one of them, Professor."

"Pardon?" Remus blinked. They really had to go and he still needed to Obliviate the girl's memory….

"I conjured that using a complex spell I found in _Madame Defarge's Book of Nastily Complex Spells_. It allows you to conjure an object from any time and use it briefly before you are required to return it."

Remus suddenly felt very cold. He was sure—nay, _positive_ that Fudge was talking about making that spell illegal.

"Hermione, that spell is as good as illegal. It…it is admirable that you are able to attempt such a feat—" Remus drew in a shaky breath; she _was _a very good witch…. "But I cannot allow you to perform that spell anymore."

"Oh!" Hermione's eyes widened, "I'm sorry I didn't know."

"But out of curiosity," Remus added, not wanting to hurt her feelings, "Where did that thing come from? What was it called?"

"Oh it's a cell phone apparently. I got it ten years from now." Hermione looked very proud of this, and secretly, Remus thought she perfectly had every right to be. Still, this was probably another thing he should try to Obliviate.

"All right, Hermione turn around for a second; the train's almost gone."

"Turn around?"

"Yes, Tonks has already gotten your things on the Express with Harry and Ron. I just need to do one thing…please turn around."

"Of course, Professor."

She turned around, and Remus felt horrible about what he was going to do, but Dumbledore had changed his mind about the living arrangements….

"_Obliviate_," he whispered, concealing his wand so that no one on the train would see what he was doing.

Hermione turned around to face Remus again, her eyes still sharp and alert.

"You didn't do anything."

The Express came to Remus's rescue, and it bellowed very loudly.

"Oh goodness! Bye Remus, and thank you for bringing me!" Hermione shouted as she ran away, now climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express. Remus could see Ron nearby, with his prefect's badge shining, helping her aboard.

"Well?"

Remus turned around, surprised. Tonks was there, with normal-looking hair for once and very round eyeglasses.

"We should leave quickly; somebody's bound to spot Padfoot soon."

"You're right," Tonks nodded, and the two started walking in the direction of the exits. Moments later, a large black dog came loping through the crowds and out the nearest exit.

"Good ole' Padfoot," Tonks smiled.

"Are you sure Miss Granger didn't tell the boys about the letter?"

"Positive. It's all spanking good, that is, if you obliviated that part of her memory."

"Yes, and something a little extra."

"Something extra?" Tonks frowned and looked at Remus accusingly.

"She performed a Retriever spell in the Tempus format right in front of me. I couldn't allow her to remember that spell; it's too dangerous."

Tonks was awed.

"A _Retriever_ spell! And in Tempus format! Why…why that's brilliant! Oh, but um, yes I can see what you're saying…but still don't you think you should've just disciplined her instead of actually taking it from her memory?"

"No, Tonks. Any spell that is able to manipulate time is far too dangerous for all of humanity. She is not allowed to use it."

* * *

"Albus," Severus said coldly, "I have had enough of this. You must make up your mind." 

"It is not me who is experiencing a temporary moment of indecisiveness. It is Cornelius Fudge." The old man settled into his cushiony chair, quite content.

"Yes, let us talk about this "temporary" moment of indecisiveness. What is that toad doing here?"

"I thought you would be pleased to see a former classmate of yours Severus."

"Albus you know me better than that."

"I was hoping at least one of the staff members would overcome their differences with Dolores Umbridge."

"Yes, she was in Slytherin when I went to school, but she was three years younger. And I despised her. Her incompetence in Potions was astounding, even when compared to Potter's."

Albus's eyes hardened and he sat up straighter.

"He is indeed incompetent isn't he? That is…unfortunate, especially when one considers the career path he is most likely to pursue."

"If Potter cannot meet the Potions requirements to become an Auror, that is not, how shall we say, my problem. He will either learn what I teach, or he will not pass the class, and that is my final word on the subject."

"Miss Granger's memory has been obliviated."

Snape tensed.

"Excuse me?" His expression contorted. A brief glimpse of concernment crossed his face, but it was immediately replaced by his usual scowl.

"Do not worry. Her memory is perfectly intact, she is the same person as she always was, with the exception of the memory that she was to live with you this school year."

"Has Fudge ordered this for all Muggle-borns?"

"No, I have ordered this for all Muggle-borns at Hogwarts. They are better off."

"Who are you to decide that but their parents?"

"Their parents have all consented."

"Good Merlin, if their parents have all consented…." Snape trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Will that be all, Severus?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said shortly, before skulking out of the room, his robes whirling about behind him.

* * *

"Where is the exchange student?" Flitwick whispered. 

"Irene Wolfe will join us next year."

And the Great Hall's chatter continued on even under the watchful eye of Dolores Umbridge, the uneasiness of Severus Snape that made him all the more aggressive and hostile with his students…and the students continued on, blissfully unaware that by the end of the year, total wizard war would be declared, and that sixth year would be a radically different one.

**July 13th, 1997**

**Hermione is 16**

**Snape is 37**

_Miss Granger—_

_You know very well as I do that I cannot divulge any student's O.W.L. score. Even if I knew what they were, I wouldn't give them to you, Hermione. Have you heard of the old Muggle adage, 'patience is a virtue'?_

_Yours Sincerely,_

_R.J.L._

Hermione snorted. Her fellow wizards and witches alike often forgot that she had spent the first eleven years of her life being raised as a normal Muggle. She'd gotten an earful of that so-called adage from her mother and father alike, and to be reprimanded at age sixteen-almost-seventeen simply for wanting to know how she did on the wizard equivalent of a standardized test. Granted, it was a bit much of her to be asking anyone, let alone Remus, who was busily working on the Order trying to do his part while the second war hung over their heads, quietly and not so quietly raging on.

Her owl, Persephone, hooted and pecked her arm insistently. There was a second envelope resting on her cubicle, waiting to be opened. Hermione quickly checked her parents' progress through the tracking potion she had sprinkled over a map of London. Students may have been banned from all kinds of sorcery and brewing, but she was sure Dumbledore would understand if she "accidentally" spilled a few drops of Tracking Brew on a map that just happened to have a search codon for the elder Grangers.

Good, they were still at Dover. Her mother was doing research for her book, and a visit to Dover was necessary, since it was a setting that Dickens liked use; her book was called _The Virgin and the Writer: Dicken's Lover_. Hermione had a fleeting suspicion that she would rather brew a Polyjuice with cat hair nonstop for a month under the painfully watchful and critical eye of Professor Snape before reading the book. She never read Dickens, because there was no use for him in the world, but she was still aware enough of his importance to sympathize his reduction to a boy toy with his jugular bared to the demented minds of rabid fans

Satisfied that her parents wouldn't return for a few days at least, Hermione opened the last envelope.

_Hermione—_

_Everything's going really well at Snuffle's. Harry's still dealing with the loss of Snuffle, but Moony, Bee, and Mum thinks he's handling it fairly well, all considering. Bill reckons that if we don't watch our step he might become angry, but Charlie suggested that you come over sometime soon. He says that maybe you being a girl and all, you could help him more in some ways. I dunno what he means by that, but I thought it would be nice if we could all see each other soon._

_Ron_

To be honest, Hermione wasn't surprised, but she liked the idea of seeing her two close friends so much sooner than expected. She would try to help Harry though, but for the first time, Hermione had been feeling grateful for her summer vacation. The O.W.L.s had taken a lot out of her even if she refused to admit it, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to go back to an environment saturated in magic, war, older wizards, schoolmates, and staff.

She immediately felt terribly selfish. Even Ron and his brothers all agreed that it would be a good idea not just for her, but for Harry and even Ron himself. She would just have to leave a note for her parents; spending so many months away from them had severed the strong bond that was once between them, and they now merely treated her as a live-in resident that didn't pay rent for a few months.

"Persephone," she said after scribbling a reply of consentment, "take this to Grimmauld please, and make sure Ron replies immediately."

The owl let out a determined hoot, and Hermione suspected that a little, flying machine of doom was now making its way towards Ron. Poor guy.

* * *

"Next order of business," Remus stated briskly, looking to Dumbledore, who nodded. 

"Ron Weasley received a response from Miss Granger. A ride will be picking her up tomorrow—

"_Midnight_ tomorrow," Tonks coughed.

Remus ignored Tonks and continued on:

"—and she will shortly join her friends. I know Harry is pleased about this—

"Pardon me," a cold voice interrupted shortly.

Remus, trying not to look particularly agitated, looked at Severus Snape.

"Yes, Severus?"

Snape glared at Remus, "Does this really have any relevance to the Order? Some of us have more pressing business, and it simply would not do if we spent all our free time dawdling about in the heart of the resistance." Snape, however, soon dropped his sarcastic manner once Dumbledore stood up from his seat.

"That will be enough. This meeting has gone on long enough, and I am sure everyone is tired and is in sore need of home-style cooking," his eyes twinkled at a beaming Molly Weasley.

"The meeting is adjourned then?" Mad-eye Moody growled suddenly, briefly startling every wizard and witch who was not exercising the principle of constant vigilance.

"The meeting is most certainly adjourned," Dumbledore nodded his confirmation, "And now I must have a word with my deputy Headmistress. She is quite busy, I believe, sending out the students' O.W.L. scores, and wished to speak with me shortly after this meeting. I am sorry I can not stay for dinner, Molly." Although his apology was heartfelt and not short at all, Dumbledore's expression resumed its now usual grave expression.

"It's no problem at all Albus," Molly dismissed him, but politely so.

"Very well. Good evening," he nodded and with no noise at all, he disappeared into thin air.

* * *

"Minerva," Dumbledore announced his presence.

The stern-looking witch turned from a stack of envelopes and pieces of parchment with her signature scrawled on each copy. Her expression was a relieved one:

"Albus, I'm glad you're here. Irene Wolfe has arrived a few months too early."

_"What do you mean a few months too early?" Elli demanded._

Eterna flashed her eyes but serenely so. The goddess, as always, was dressed in a simple, brown tunic, cinched to reveal her tiny waist with a thin, metal ring. Gold coins hung from her earlobes; her shiny, straight black hair fell to her waist, and Elli had never seen a strand escape from its place. The goddess possessed a high forehead, pronounced cheekbones, and her eyes slanted into the traditional, exotic Asian look. She reeked of sorcery and various body parts were constantly changing shapes, sprouting all sorts of greenery, shimmering colors of the rainbow, and at one point, Elli could've sworn she'd seen her tongue transform into a serpent's, flicking in and out so fast that the gesture was nearly invisible.

_"My shadow is not to blame." Eterna was already defensive and spoke with a strong Mandarin accent._

_"I'm not blaming your shadow," Elli said smoothly._

_"Minerva will tell your shadow."_

"The question as to why Miss Wolfe has come so early still has not been answered, Minerva," Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his eyes. He suddenly looked old and tired.

_"You do not look well Elli. Your energy is being used less efficiently by your shadow," Eterna pointed out._

_"Please stop," Elli grinded her teeth, "Don't you think I already know that? The man is decaying; it is inevitable even for a wizard of his greatness but he still has at least fifty years."_

"I know the question is not answered, Albus. The girl just appeared without notice, and her magic, while potent, is not nearly controlled. She is not ready to be placed with her peers."

"I have been thinking about this, Minerva—

"Headmaster I know what you're going to say. There's something inside of me, something to do with sorcery, and I have a strong sense that bringing in more foreign young wizards and witches will determine the best course of action. They undoubtedly will prove to be useful.

And besides," Minerva McGonagall added slyly, "Wouldn't Halcyon appreciate it if his daughter were to be closer at hand? Especially when he's doing such dangerous work..."

The twinkle instantly disappeared from Dumbledore's eyes.

"Quite to the contrary, Halcyon will not be pleased with this turn of events. Bringing his daughter in from Denmark will only...complicate things. His identity is heavily compromised as it is."

Minerva snorted, "More like despised is what it is. The man is thought to be some depraved, bestial anthropomorphic creature. Having Irene Wolfe attend is only going to expose her to the full brunt of the prejudices directed at Halcyon."

"This war is not going to be a long one, Minerva, not like the last one. This is a war that might last, at most, five years. It comes right down to Harry and Voldemort, and we both know Harry can not keep escaping Voldemort over and over again. There is no use to train exchange students from abroad."

_"He's absolutely right, Eterna." Elli curled her lower lip although she dared not to further disrespect the powerful goddess who controlled much of the world's magic._

_"Yes, but that is not the purpose of bringing Irene Wolfe here. Irene has a powerful shadow, who happens to be a very good friend of mine. She is the stronghold against the Chaos goddess, and already she is badly needed here," Eterna countered._

"I advise that you trust my judgment, Albus. I am sorry to disobey you so, but every fiber of my being is telling me that this girl needs to stay, and that the fact she has arrived earlier…well all the better." Minverva jammed the quill she had been holding during the entire conversation into an ink pot and quickly sealed the rest of the envelopes magically.

"The students' grades are complete. I will be down at the Owlery sending them out. Irene Wolfe is in the room next door, waiting for you. You should interview her."

Minerva, with a sudden likeness to Hogwart's favorite Potion's Master, swished her robes around Albus and left the room with giant, teetering stacks of envelope following her meekly.

_"Have fun," Eterna grinned mischievously at Elli, "I know she and Macha will get along wonderfully."_

_"Oh shits," Elli thought._


	7. 1997: The Halcyon Puzzle

**July 13th, 1997**

**Hermione is 16**

**Snape is 37**

Albus Dumbledore opened the door to the next room with a certain degree of gentility. A young woman—a girl really—about fifteen or sixteen years of age was reclining in one of the comfortable armchairs, near a fireplace ablaze.

"Miss Wolfe, I am Albus Dumbledore, the Hogwart's Headmaster," Dumbledore introduced himself.

The girl gave no sign that she heard the formidable wizard.

* * *

"_Oh Great Overlord_," Elli pleaded silently, "_Why did it have to be her, of all people?_" 

She was referring to, of course, the dark, hooded shadower that hovered over the silent girl. The shadow's cloak was a distinctive, dark green color, and although the shadow's delicate face was shrouded in darkness, the soft brown curls could easily be seen. The shadow radiated intensity, impatience, stubbornness, and most of all, a shivering calmness that washed over a self and bringing an overwhelming sense of peace while simultaneously disturbing the affected person to a great extent. Her lips, dark and full, curled into a pronounced pout although the shadow wasn't actually pouting, and in both hands, with her arms crossing each other, she clutched a long, black, pointed spear.

Despite the old woman's strength and formidable Scandinavian attire, the new shadow was far more formidable, and while she was a bit more powerful than Elli, her main weapon was the strange combination of overwhelming intimidation and peace that she inspired.

"Eirene," Elli whispered, "It's been too long."

The goddess, did not speak for a short while. When she did speak, her voice was soft and feminine:

"Far too long."

* * *

"Miss?" Dumbledore frowned, concerned. It was not normal for people to ignore him. 

"Miss?" he tried again, only much louder. The girl was startled and she sat upright, her eyes widening.

"Headmaster," she uttered quietly, as if she was experiencing great disbelief, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"It's quite all right. Do you mind if I sit?"

"Not at all," the girl responded as if she was accustomed to older men of high dignity beseeching to her whims.

Dumbledore set himself into the plush armchair across from the girl quite comfortably and he questioned her, "You are the exchange student from Denmark?"

"Um, yes. Yes, sir." Irene's brown eyes slid to the left uncomfortably, and she proceded to stare at a nearby coffee table intently.

"Do you know why Professor McGonagall has chosen to accept you a good four years after reaching school age, Miss Wolfe?"

"I haven't any idea. No school would take me."

Then as an afterthought, she added, "Besides, I'm turning sixteen in August."

"Five years then.You are aware of the approaching wizarding war, your father having recently been instated in his...work...of a sensitive nature, with Lord Voldemort's return two years ago. Professor McGonagall and I have discussed with Halcyon--your father--and it has been agreed that the best thing for your safety is to place you under Hogwarts protection."

"You don't mind that...that he did what he did? What I am?"

"It boggles the mind," Dumbledore confessed, his blue eyes alight with honesty, "But I was sorely disappointed when Halcyon fled to Denmark, with an infant in tow. When he wrote to me a few months later with news of you, Irene, I was pleased to find that your humanity had asserted itself so well."

"He went to school with you, didn't he?"

"Oh no, goodness, no. It is true that Halcyon is much older than the average wizard parent with a sixteen year-old daughter, but he certainly wasn't my classmate. When he was a student at Hogwarts I do recall that he was good friends with a young woman by the name of Eileen Prince--nevertheless it was during my time as a Transfiguration Professor."

"I'm--I'm glad that you've been able to put aside differences. But, how can you keep me safe? And the others?" Irene's posture began to slump, her fingers flickering with growing anxiety.

"Oh...we have a little something called the Shrieking Shack..."

* * *

An hour later brought the Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and his most recent charge, Irene Wolfe, to a very comfortable situation. Irene had been provided with some tea, and she was beginning to relax in her comfy chair once again. Dumbledore clearly had a serious expression, but otherwise he seemed to be enjoying the conversation. 

The girl was quite peculiar. She had a strong, and graceful bone structure, but while her eyes were intense and an intimidating shade of dark brown, almost black, she also offered softness, comfort, and peace if she opened up to someone. She sported a magnificent mane of long, brown, and wavy hair.

"...if you would like, I can send a staff member to accompany you to Denmark to retrieve your wand and Apparate you back here. Of course this would have to wait till tomorrow, but you can get comfortably settled in the girls' dormitories, or if it's too lonely up there, you can stay with Professor McGonagall in her quarters."

"Thank you again. I'll stay in the dormitories if you don't mind."

"Thank you for your time, Miss Wolfe. I trust Professor McGonagall has already given you a tour?"

"Yes, but I haven't been sorted."

"The Hat is in my office—

A clearing of a throat was heard, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"Ah, well, it seems that the Hat has somehow arranged its transport to this room—

_"Arranged, you silly man," Elli berated affectionately, "This has Eterna written all over it."_

_"Quiet."_

_This was so softly uttered by the intensegoddess of Peace in such a lovely, feminine tone, Elli had no choice but to obey while holding a great deal of admiration and respect for the shadower._

"I suppose," Irene said, quite indifferent.

Now that the formalities and explanations had been done with, Irene Wolfe reverted to her normal self: a passive girl who spent most of her time daydreaming and thinking, rarely uttering a word.

Her eyes followed Dumbledore's hands as he placed the Hat on her head.

"The Hat need not sing its song," Dumbledore said quietly, to the battered Hat.

The Hat opened and closed at a slit in the brim, showing its confirmation.

"_Independent I see, ambitious too. You have goodwill, but you think and see more so. Individualism, the fighting spirit…_"

Instead of the Hat screaming the House name, Irene opened her eyes and smiled.

"Ravenclaw."

* * *

"I was certain she would be placed in Slytherin." 

"You are silly," the shadower's full lips curled upwards into a small smile, "Do you really think the goddess of Peace would choose a House riddled with tension and corruption to carry out her defenses?"

"Chaos is already near?"

"Indeed. We need the cataclysmic event to happen."

"And that would be…."

"You really should speak to Lilith. Macha if you please, but Lilith, being the goddess of Wisdom understands it better than some…warmonger."

Fleetingly, Elli recalled Eterna's sardonic farewell:

"_I know she and Macha will get along wonderfully."_

Goddess of Peace or no, Eirene and Macha were bound to butt heads. It was inevitable. Elli had a feeling that this meant their shadows, Severus Snape and Irene Wolfe, would not be likely to get along.

* * *

A/N: Much thanks to the lovely reviewer, bungeecord. I hope this long chapter (and I was sure to include more of the shadowers) is satisfactory. :-) 

Remember from chapter six that the cataclysmic event is the unlikeliest love that will soon develop betweenSnape and Hermione.

The relevance of introducing Irene as a character will reveal itself. Momentarily. :D


End file.
